


Rubin Gardiner (title tbd)

by jakewantstowrite



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Call of Duty - Freeform, F/M, Game: Call of Duty, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2019), Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, Game: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakewantstowrite/pseuds/jakewantstowrite
Summary: Rubin Gardiner goes back home on a break from work and deals with after effects of combat and missing his friends, while also figuring out his sexuality and how to handle being back with his family.
Kudos: 3





	Rubin Gardiner (title tbd)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter for my story concerning my OC Rubin Gardiner. Please leave any suggestions or critique as I’m a new writer and new to fanfic!

1 – Fifth

“You take the one on the left, I’ll get the one on the right.”

This was Rubin’s fifth mission as a part of the 141, and with each they were treating him less like the “Fucking New Guy” and more like the skilled killer he was. He was used to being the FNG though; he’d been moved around plenty of times and no matter where you were in the military, getting picked on a bit as the newbie was inevitable. The guys in the 141, however, were surprised time and time again as Rubin pulled some hidden skill out of his arse each mission. Rubin liked them—out of all the teams he had been on in the past, these people seemed both closer than brothers with each other, and at the same time could be so focused on their own objectives in a mission that nothing could distract from a carefully organized ambush or perfectly synchronized series of shots. Unless, of course, when one of their own was in danger. They never left each other or their allies. As Price frequently put it, “We take care of our friends.”

“On my mark.”

His time so far in the 141 had been some of the most exciting, and terrifying, he’d ever experienced. Just in these past few months, Rubin had done some of the craziest shit in his life: just about everything one could imagine from stopping nuclear warheads destined to create another world war from launching to single-handedly taking out a dozen deadly assassins in the dark with nothing but a combat knife and his bare fucking hands. Not to mention the countless near-death experiences. Rubin was proud of his work on this team, and rightfully so. He was damn good at what he does. He’s changed too, of course. The type of work he did now compared to his earlier days in the army was much more violent and, quite frankly, rather traumatizing at times. After all, they killed people for a living.

“Take the shot.”

Rubin knew what he signed up for. Another phrase Price commonly used was, “We get dirty, and the world stays clean. That’s the job.” He’s right, too. By giving up a part of yourself to do this kind of job, someone else in the world stays untested. More so stay safe from the quarrels of world powers, unless, of course, Rubin or someone else in the 141 fucked up and let something irrevocable happen. That wouldn’t happen though—they were the best of the best.

“Nicely done.”

The 141 was infiltrating a Russian military base about fifty kilometers northeast of Pevek. Their main objective was to hack a computer containing a hefty amount of information about their enemies—names, contacts, locations, etc. It was a fucking gold mine as far as they were concerned. There were also hostages onsite that Soap and Roach were looking for, some of which were their friends. The team had gone undetected so far, but that wouldn’t last long once someone found the trail of bodies left behind. Rubin just hoped they will have finished the job by then. Once they completed this mission, they would have a break away from work. Rubin only had to make it out of here alive, then he could go back home to Scotland and see his family for a bit. 

Rubin and Price moved from the ditch they were laying in and moved to the gated entrance. Ghost chimed in on the comms, “Cameras cut. Gate’s ‘bout to be unlocked. The alarm’s on a timer, so get in there fast n I’ll close it again before they go off.” They moved up to the entrance where the gate slowly moved to the side, creating an increasingly large opening for the two men to slide into the perimeter. With a gap about three feet wide, Rubin and Price each grabbed a body to drag inside so no one out there would suspect anything was going wrong. The very second the two of them were past the door, it began to close again.

“Alright lad, we’re gonna take this nice and slow,” Price muttered under his breath. “Nobody knows we’re ‘ere n I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

They starting moving left along the inside of the perimeter toward the south tower that held the computers and radios for the base, not bothering to be particularly sneaky given there was a raging blizzard all around them. Almost everywhere Rubin looked was a plain, blinding white—they would have to get pretty close to an enemy to be spotted, hence why this was the perfect day for this kind of operation. 

Price stopped suddenly and held his fist in the air. “Gardiner, two tangoes to the right. Same as before.”

Rubin brought the scope of his rifle up to his eye and aimed the sights at the man on the left. Shite, he thought. There’s a dog too—German Shepherd. Rubin used to love dogs, but nowadays they were just another threat to keep in the back of his mind, except, unlike most humans, they would unflinchingly tear your throat out. He quickly opened the heartbeat sensor on the side of his gun before taking out the soldier first, then the dog. Price dropped the guy on the right. There were no more beating hearts in the fifty meters in front of them, so those bodies should be fine there for now, but they would have to move fast. 

“Let’s go,” Price whispered. “Tower’s twenty meters south.”

They got to the tower entrance, and Ghost’s gravelly voice rang in his ear again. “Looks to be six hostiles on the first floor of the tower. Four more upstairs. Cutting cameras.”

“We’ll need to be quick about this, now,” Price growled.

Rubin checked his gun’s chamber and mentally prepared himself for at least two floors of hostiles, undoubtedly armed. They needed to drop all six of them on this first floor before they could fire back and alert the others, or soon enough everyone on the complex would know they were here. Then they’d have to figure out which floor the computers were on so they could start the hack. Price stuck a frame charge on the door and stood on the opposite side of where Rubin was. The loud storm would cover most of the sound of the explosion. 3… 2… 1…

BANG!

Rubin felt it almost in slow-motion. The two men darted into the building, each raising their weapons to neutralize the forward threats. There was a table a few feet from the door with a man sitting in a chair at it—Rubin shot him in the back of the neck. To his left there was another beginning to stand up, reaching for a pistol, but Rubin dropped him before he was even halfway out of his chair.   
The last one was much closer than the other two, further over to the left, previously out of his field of vision. Right as the soldier put a handgun to his stomach, Rubin shoved the barrel of his rifle into the man’s face, earning a satisfying crunch as his nose broke. The man fell to the floor and Rubin pounced on him, swiftly and skillfully whipping out his knife and slashing into his throat with the precision of a viper striking its prey, causing blood to spray all over his face. Just at the blade entered his attacker’s soft flesh, however, Rubin heard a loud bang and felt a hot burning radiating through his core. 

He’d just been shot.

Rubin looked over to Price, who had finished off the other three men on that side of the room and watched the man’s eyes widen as he felt himself falling to the floor. Rubin heard his captain shouting something unintelligible into their comms, then an equally muffled response in his ear. Some shouting came from upstairs. He put a hand to his stomach and felt a hot, thick fluid pumping out onto himself, pooling on the floor below him. Price ran to his side and put gauze on his wound.

“Keep pressure on this, Gardiner. You’ll be fine for now. I’ve gotta find the tower’s computers and start the hack. I’ll be quick.” He stood. “Nikolai, change of plans. Gardiner’s hit. Rendezvous at the secondary LZ in fifteen minutes.”

“Da, will do, captain,” Nikolai answered.

“Soap, you got that?”

Soap hopped on the comms. “Copy that. Roach and I found the hostages. On our way now.”

“Don’t move,” Price grinned.

“Christ,” Rubin groaned. “Not planning on it, old man.”

Price started upstairs and Rubin heard gunfire a minute later, then bodies hitting the floor above. “Found the computers up here,” Price announced on the comms. “DSM’s connected to the computer network. Starting the transfer now. Should take about six minutes, then we’re getting the hell outta ‘ere.”

“Hurry the hell up, you two! They know we’re here,” Soap remarked. “No point in keeping quiet now. Everybody’s shooting at us and the hostages.”

Rubin’s vision was starting to darken. Pretty soon he was going to need more than blood-soaked gauze for this gunshot wound. A few minutes, or what seemed like much more to Rubin, passed, and the next thing he knew Price was helping him walk out of the tower and back into the freezing cold. There was a lot of gunfire now—too much for him to be comfortable with at the moment. His vision was getting darker and darker by the minute. Now he could see the helicopter, with Soap, Roach, and some more inside. They had made it to the LZ, and the extraction team was exchanging fire with their enemies.

“Oi, look at you, numpty!” Soap laughed once they were all loaded into the helicopter. “You’ve gone off and gotten yourself shot. What the ‘ell’d you do that for?” 

“Oh, piss off,” Rubin replied. “Not like I was fuckin’ tryin’ to, ya muppet.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine,” Ghost countered. “He’s a hard bastard.”

“Let’s go, everybody on!” Price yelled.

The extraction team loaded up onto the helicopter and they took off, soldiers still firing at them. The medic started attending to Rubin’s injuries while Roach patted him on the shoulder and the others listened to the stories of their friends that had been taken hostage. Rubin had been shot before, so this was nothing new to him and he knew that he’d be back to normal in a few weeks. He’d be at home by next week anyways, not on base. Still, he was annoyed that his disablement had caused the mission to go awry, but at least they had gotten out with what they came for and nobody else was hurt. Rubin knew he’d take a bullet for these men any day, just as they had for him on previous occasions.

Even though his vitals were now stabilized, Rubin could feel himself drifting off still—not from blood loss anymore, but from pure exhaustion. He and his team had been up for quite a while now and had done a lot. Rubin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night of sleep—not that those came naturally anyway. Not that they would ever again after what he’d seen and done. 

Price and Soap were gazing solemnly out the windows, while Ghost and Roach were leaning back on the side of the vehicle with their eyes closed, so Rubin figured he could get a bit of shut eye too. It would be a bit before they got back to base—plus, he was the injured one.

Rubin closed his eyes and soon felt himself drifting into oblivion.


End file.
